Path of the Righteous
by Kojiokida2
Summary: The story of a young man becoming a Sarafan, then discovering the truth about the man who recruited him (Chap 10 up)
1. Freedom

Ewoden's soul was the one thing he prized above all else. It had been his only procession when he was born into Slavery, under the cruelty of his master's whip. He grew up knowing nothing but merciless discipline. As a slave, you had no rights. If your master decided that it was time for you to die, nothing could save you. A strong slave would live for about twenty years if he was lucky, but if you didn't become strong within your childhood, you would die. That was the lesson Ewoden learned the hard way when his brother died, unable to cope with the daily routine of helping to push the heavy carts out of the Provincial mines. As his friends and family died all around him, Ewoden carried on, his soul burning in hatred, sorrow and rage. Every lick the whip gave him, ever scar that went untreated, every injustice his master's got away with, he remembered. Every instant had been carved in stone. They could take anything but his soul from him, it was his most prized procession and one he would never let go of. Fiery red hair and hard set green eyes, forged and set hard by years of labour were his trade mark. They reflected his soul, which despite his situation remained free.

When it neared his nineteenth birthday, and all he expected to get as a present was an extra ration from a generous friend, Ewoden began to wonder if his destiny lay trapped in these mines. Drilling out the precious metals for the nobility of Willendorf to use, never seeing any fruits of his labours, then to die under the mining carts wheels when he grew too tired or too old to carry on. On that day when he turned nineteen, a mysterious man, accompanied by two knights came to visit the mines. Ewoden had never seen an old wrinkled face before, was that would he would look like if he lived long enough? He had a hooked nose and dull grey eyes. A strange, looped symbol was tattooed in red on his forehead. He was dressed in grey robes with a golden outline around the edges of the hood and cuffs. His thin, bony fingers he grasped a staff, with a strange pearl like orb on the top. A decorative red and golden snake was wrapped around the whole length, the snakes mouth attempting to swallow the pearl.

"Who is he?" He asked another slave as they passed by. The knights had shining silver armour and their eyes glinted from behind a visor in their helmets. Their choice of weaponry was either a long pure white blade or a long, double bladed pike.

"He is Moebius, one of the circle of Nine." The other slave replied, before carrying on with his work. Ewoden gave this old man another look over. He was patrolling the mines, eyeing the younger, stronger slaves with a keen eye. Ewoden had seen this happen before, rich merchants would usually come down to pick out strong slaves for their own enterprises. But this Moebius didn't look like any merchant. 

A member of the Circle of Nine? Ewoden hadn't the slightest idea what or who they were, he'd lived his entire life working these mines, keeping his nose out of business that did not concern him. Making a guess, he imagined the circle as an elite group of businessmen or something like that. Finally he came over to Ewoden's work line, accompanied by the slave master. A large man dressed in white robes and with a whip tied to his belt. A thin moustache trailing down each side of his lips. Moebius looked them all down, but he stopped to study Ewoden further.

"A fine example." He said to himself, encircling Ewoden, noting nearly everyone of his muscles with his eyes alone. The slave master forced Ewoden away from his work and forced him to stand out straight so the old man could inspect him better. "Yes, you'll do nicely." Ewoden hesitated. He'd been picked out? It certainly wasn't surprising. Given that he was a prime stock for any buyer, he thought it only a matter of time before someone came for him. "You won't need that anymore." Moebius said with a mysterious grin, pointing to the pick axe in Ewoden hand's.

He had never tasted Freedom before, So when he was marched out of the mines and into the light. He could hardly believe what was going on. Three carts were stacked outside the entrance to the mines, almost bulging with muscular slaves. Not one of them had been asked to bring their mining equipment along. An idea came to Ewoden's head as he boarded the final cart, one that seemed too good to be true but he hoped for it none the less. Did this mean that, he was free? 

South west they moved, through lush countryside that he had never set eyes on before. Despite how cold and tired he was, Ewoden refused to close his eyes even for a minute. He would not forsake the wonders the world was filed with. The clear sky, the high mountains in the distance. The joy was almost unbearable. 

Nosgoth's beauty was so astounding, Ewoden almost convinced himself that he was dreaming. That he was still back in the mines and would awake at any minute thanks to a cruel lashing from a whip. Moebius and his two knights rode up front on horse back, two banners flying out behind them. The background was flaxen yellow, and the symbol itself seemed to be an angel with outstretched wings.

Eventually, fatigue got the better of him, and he sank into sleep involuntarily. His dreams were torn, so many conflicting emotions of hope and fear preventing his mind from fixing of anything. 

"Wake up, you can't miss this." One of the other sold slaves prodded him. Ewoden was put back into reality rather harshly as the other pulled him to his feet, all murmuring and pointing toward something up ahead. Ewoden looked with half closed eyes. They were entering a valley between two large mountains. The hillsides of each covered with the rich body of an evergreen forest. A soft, pearl lake lay at it's centre. The waters glistening brightly., the suns rays casting shadows of light on the rippling surface. But that was not what captured Ewoden's immediate attention. On the side of the lake was an immense fortress. A colossal structure, with battlements that stretched over twenty meters high at first glance. Giant turrets branching off at each side. A gleaming white sentry that stood alone in between the green peeks, banners held aloft in the sweet evening breeze. A large pair of wooden doors opened out onto the lake, two large banners held out on either side. The strange thing was, an odd crystal was mounted above the entrance, a pink gem with a faint gleam of light reflecting off the polished surface. 

"I know of this place." Another astonished Slave told him. "This is the Fortress of the Sarafan order." The Sarafan were too famous for Ewoden not to know who they were. A fanatical order, created some hundred years ago to combat the increasing population of Vampires in Nosgoth. Their tales of gallantry and heroism stretched across the Nosgoth far and wide. Their fortress was as every bit as magnificent as the stories described it, even more so. 

The carts rolled on until they reached the edge of the lake. There they stopped and waited, the two knights waved their banners high so the guards around the turrets could see they were friendly. From down thee, Ewoden could see a few Archers standing atop the battlements, looking down on them suspiciously. Once the banners were sighted, the two gigantic gates opened out onto the lake, pushing against the water creating ripples of foam and small waves. Slowly, two boats sailed out toward them. They were small, but large enough to accommodate all those present. 

Ewoden and the other purchased slaves were told to step out of the carts and onto the boats. They did so without question, mainly because they had been taught to do so. Ewoden had never been on a boat before and his sea legs failed to catch up with him quick enough to help him with his stomach. The gentle rocking of the boat, while soothing to others made him positively sick. A gentle voice chuckled at his ear.

"You get used to it after a while." Ewoden looked up to see one of the Knights that had brought them near, he had taken his helmet off. He had pale skin and hard set blue eyes, his hair was a thick golden blonde, but was dirty from not being washed. Ewoden failed to notice it though, he was covered in a culmination of years of grime. "I'm Dumah." He added, offering his hand to shake. Ewoden stared at him confused. He had never been treated like an actual human being before. When someone used their hand against him, it often to strike him with the back end of it. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and took it. "What's your name lad?" 

"Ewoden." He replied. Dumah smiled warmly at him. 

"Not used to the treatment I expect." He added. Ewoden nodded fiercely. "Not many of the freed slaves are." The slave's heard missed a beat. So, he was free. He was free.. Free…free….free. The word bounced around inside his head and he embraced it, tears of happiness running down his cheek. 

They sailed inside the large door and as soon as the last boat had gotten inside, it slowly began to shut after them. The hall beyond was magnificent, a arched ceiling engraved with curves and slant edges. Six pillars standing around the edge of the water, holding the ceiling over them. Waiting for them on each side of the small indoor dock were four women. It surprised Ewoden to see that all of them were bald. They were dressed in grey uniforms with golden threads gauntlets around their forearms. The old man Moebius got off first after a plank of wooden was placed across the gap. Once on the other side, he turned to face them. 

"Well to the Sarafan Stronghold, new recruits."

]

(Reviews please, dose continue.)


	2. The stronghold

(Finally got around to writing the third chapter. Reviews again please.)

There was no end to the stronghold's splendour and Ewoden could only help but stare in awe as the column of purchased slaves moved through the stone corridors. Every couple of window were stained glass windows, each depicting a Sarafan knight with white wings impaling a green, demonic creature with it's sword. The ceiling was arched, with the same strange architecture he had seen inside the dock a few minutes earlier. In front of nearly every larger door hung Sarafan banners, depicting the same symbol he had seen their horsemen brandishing earlier. 

Every now and then, he would pass other Sarafan knights other than the ones at the front of the group, leading them. They would give them a sceptical glance when they passed by, as if assessing if they were worthy enough to be present in their fortress. Ewoden couldn't blame them, such a colossal and beautiful construction deserved little short of the best. He looked toward Dumah for some kind of explanation into it's glory, he just winked at him with a broad smile.

The women that had met them when they stepped off the boat were escorting them on either side. Ewoden couldn't help staring. He had never seen a bald women before. The only women who went down into the mines were the wives of the noblemen, and they only came when they had no other choice. When he realized he was being rude, he tried to fix his attention on something else. That wasn't hard, there were lots of things to divert his attention. 

Especially when they left the corridor and arrived in a wide open chamber. The knights motioned for them to advance to the centre of it. They obeyed without question. The chamber had no roof, and so the clear sky with the faint smudges of cloud could be seen. Four statures of Sarafan angels, not unlike those of the stained glass windows before hand, stood proudly on pillars at each side of the square arena. Most of the floor was marble, but four small squares of grass, purposely placed, sat in the centre. A thin stretch of roof ran around the outside of it, held up by at least a dozen small marble shafts. Two knights stood in the centre, waiting for them. 

One of them was clad in green chain mail, silver armour and brandished a long, nasty looking pike. Goat like horns had been placed on the front of his helmet. A pair of steal grey eyes visible behind his visor. The second had his helmet removed, so Ewoden and the other's could see his pale white skin, blue eyes and raven black hair, set in a middle parting. His armour was bright orange, with a golden chest plate, engraved to look exactly like another Sarafan angel, the wings spreading out onto the shoulder pads. A cruel looking blade was attached to the cuff of his left arm. But what grabbed Ewoden's immediate attention were the two spikes sticking out from the ground nearby. Several heads had been impaled on it. Severed heads, each one almost translucent having been there so long. They weren't human, he could see that at once, with the pointed ears and fangs, but still the sight made him almost puke in disgust. 

"Well met Raziel." Meobius said with a smile, addressing the helmet less knight. The knight lowered his head in a gesture of respect to Meobius, before looking past him toward the slaves. 

"I take it these are the new recruits sir." Moebius nodded, looking back over his shoulder with the faint outline of an evil grin. Raziel sighed, walking forward, looking them over himself. "Certainly not bad, I think we can do something with this lot." he paused to look back toward the green knight. "What do you think Turel?" Turel was by far much larger, a good head and shoulders above Raziel and looked down on them all menacingly. 

"We'll see how well they do during training, and then I'll make up my mind." He turned, reached down and tore one of the served heads up and without pausing, tossed it to Ewoden. The former slave caught it, and went deadly silent. The dead face stared back at him, eyes rolled back, tongue out over the lips. Strands of blond hair falling out of the scalp. The stench of it was horrible. He held his composure, and gently tossed it away, trying not to look like he was about to be violently sick. Turel seemed to approve of Ewoden;s approach as he started chuckling. "Not too bad, I think I might be able to do something good with this one." 

The knights and other Sarafan starting talking amongst themselves, the bald Sarafan women standing on the outside of the open topped chamber looking bored. The slaves all started chattering quietly to each other, excited prospects, hopes and dreams filling the tense air around them. Ewoden felt himself strangely detached from all of them. His attention was looked onto the head he'd thrown away. He knew the Sarafan hunted vampires, and so logic dictated that this wad the head of a blood sucking demon. But it looked human. Apart from pointed ears and fangs, the face was human. How did the Sarafan ever muster up the courage to dispatch a creature of the night if it looked so mortal? 

"It takes a lot to impress Turel." Dumah said with a hearty laugh, placing a hand on Ewoden's shoulder. "You've got guts lad, and that's a good quality for a Sarafan." Ewoden turned to look at him. 

"Me, A Sarafan?" He asked absently, considering the whole possibility. He had been born a slave, taught to expect that he would die a slave and suddenly this happened. He felt so deliriously happy he thought that any moment he'd either faint or wake up. Dumah nodded.

"Well, once you pass the training, which won't be easy I tell you, but I reckon a strong, young man such as yourself should be able to endure it." He patted him on the back. "You'll go far, I wouldn't be surprised if you made General some day." And with that, he went off to talk with another knight. Leaving Ewoden to stare of into space alone. Whatever fate had landed him here, he embraced with open arms like a found lover awaiting the return of their partner. 

"Pardon my interruption. my lord." A message boy had run out from an adorning corridor. He was breathing hard from having to run. Meobius looked down at him. His grey eyes gazing softly at the young lad. He had dirty blond hair, almost like Dumah but longer. Like moist messengers, he was dressed in simple sheep skins with thing string holding them to his body. "A lady Azimuth had just arrived, seeking your council." Meobius's features hardened so much he looked like his face had been carved out of stone. 

"If you gentlemen will excuse me." He said, briefly gesturing toward Raziel, Turel and a group of other knights chatting to themselves. No one noticed the old man leave, following the message boy. Ewoden stared after him, suddenly puzzled from the change Meobius had undertaken. The look on his face, so determined and iron clad was totally different to the soft, so much older face had had just become used to seeing. The large group continued talking for another minute or two, before the doors of another adorning corridor burst open and another knight marched in, accompanied by at least four other Sarafan women. He was different from the others, they could see that in a second., His chain mail was purple, his armour bright silver. His shoulder blades were jet black, with a thin strip of golden yellow running along the outside. His chest plate was engraved by strange symbols, a form of writing Ewoden had never seen before. His helmet was different from the other's. It was more streamlined, without a set of decorative horns. A plume of black hair ran from the back of the head. The moment he entered, the knights dropped down to their knees, bowing their heads before him. Ewoden and the other slaves got the message and quickly followed. The deadly silence that followed was so sudden Ewoden felt like he'd been ripped from reality itself and placed intoa world were nothing happened as it was supposed to.

The knight stopped at the edge of the open arena, scanning all those present with eyes hidden behind the darkness of his visor. Then, he approached. His armour clanking against his chain mail. 

"Lord Malek." Raziel began. "These are the new recruits Lord Meobius purchased from the province of Willendorf." 

"I see." Malek replied sharply, his voice so deep it sounded almost like distant thunder. "Separate them into four different groups, and we'll start the training from there. I will attend to one group personally." The knights quickly sorted them into four groups, each one equal to the other in number. Once this was accomplished, Raziel, Turel and Dumah selected a group and stood by them. Ewoden was not in any of them. He found a pit forming in his stomach as Malek himself approached, giving them the third sceptical glance Ewoden had received in the last few minutes. He was a terrifying man, almost as tall as Turel but it was the pike strapped to his back, with a blade that curved around almost forming a circle that made his skin receive goose bumps. The fact that his face could not be seen added a hint of mystery that none of the former slaves found appealing. "You all appear well built, but I assure you I only accept the best examples of men for the Sarafan army. We'll begin your training in a few short hours, until then…Sorceress," He yelled, calling over to one of the women standing around the walls. "Take these men to the baths. They smell like they've been rolling around in pig excrement." 


	3. Training and bloodshed

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(Sorry it took a while, but I've been a little busy.)

The armour worn by Sarafan, despite being thick and chunky, was almost as light as a feather. The chain mail weight considerably more and at first Ewoden didn't think he'd been able to even stand up. Eventually, he got used to the pull on his muscles and found he could move around quite easily in it. The armoury of the Stronghold was a large room, the walls lined with shields and rows upon rows of swords, pikes and other cruel looking weaponry. A corridor lead out of the room on the far hand side, a Sarafan knight standing in the entrance way on guard. A number of the bald sorceress', who Ewoden was still not used to seeing stood around the outside of the room. 

Ewoden's group stood directly in the centre, admiring the handy work made by a smith on an impressive looking suit of armour that stood on a small pedestal in the centre of the room. It resembled Malek's armour, but had larger bracers attached to the cuffs. Malek himself was with them, momentarily giving an expert eye to the craft man ship of one of the Sarafan swords, looking up and down the white blade carefully. 

After a bath, which was another thing Ewoden was new two, the Sarafan women had given them new clothes in exchange for the dirty rag's they been wearing before hand and then herded them into the armour, were servants measured them up and gave them new fitting suits of armour. 

Ewoden found himself looking over his new helmet continuously. He had a steal mask over the mouth and nose, and a metal rim just above the eyes forming a visor not unlike Malek's. He hadn't put it on yet, but he decided to refrain from doing so until he was in training. His armour, excluding the helmet, consisted of the robes he wore under the blood red chain mail, the chain mail itself and the armoured plates over his chest, thighs and cuffs. The bracers of both arms was thick and made of some alloy that he couldn't place. A gold highlight ran along the outside edge of the silver metal plates, engraved with small runes.

Ewoden couldn't put the felling into words as he looked himself over, for the first time in his entire life, he felt powerful. There was probably no other word to use, the armour made him look so much like the guards in the mines that he couldn't help feeling elevated above all those Meobius had not withdraw from Willendorf. 

Malek had said nothing since they arrived in the armoury, he stood there, examining the swords of display keenly with an expert eye. When he got to the end of the row of blade, he picked up the last one and held the hilt tightly in both hands, the sword seemed to shine in the light. 

Without warning, he swung around and smashed the sword against the wall, the noise tearing through the room, heralding an astonished silence. Crakes like delicate lines in spider's webs ran across the blade's length before it shattered and transformed into a shower of white shards. Malek held up the broken hilt, before he made an unimpressed sound and tossed it over his shoulder. 

"Sorceress, have the black smith responsible for these low grade weapons decapitated." 

The leader of the Sarafan army was a psychotic maniac. 

"We'll have to start with archery then." He added, reaching for a bow made from bone marrow and a sack full of arrows, lined with feathers from eagles. As he made for the door, he made a gesture with his right hand and imminently, the Sarafan women began handing out Bows and several arrows to the stunned new recruits. Ewoden took his almost in a daze, his eyes still fixed on Malek as he marched out into the courtyard. Once they all armed, the sorceress' herded them outside. They quickly formed into a silent line behind Malek, who had his back to them. The courtyard was a section of land on the other side of the stronghold from the lake, closed off by a large wall that ran around in a oval from the right hand side of the Stronghold to the other. A large set of gates, leading to a trail through the forests was on the far side. Several sets of targets, each one a stuffed sack dummy hung from gallows like structures made from wood stood at alternating distances away. The air was cold and the wind whipped at there faces; Ewoden, who was no expert in archery could tell that this was no fine weather for the practice. The wind would simply blow the arrow off course

Malek shoved the blunt end of his large pike into the ground so e hand a free hand and within seconds, had an arrow flying through the air toward the nearest target. It slipped through the sack, embedding itself directly in the chest of the dummy, defying the wind, who howled in protest. "When you shoot a vampire, hitting in the arm or leg isn't going to do diddly squat." Malek explained. "You want to take them down, it has to be a kill shot first time, either in the heart or in the brain." He turned around and pointed toward the recruit standing next to Ewoden. "You, up here." The young man, who was probably only a few years younger than Ewoden himself stammered for a moment before obeying. "Let's see I you can hit the head." He added, gesturing toward the dummy with the arrow in it's chest. Rather clumsily, the boy raised the bow, the arrow's feathers clenched tightly in the tights of a fist around the string. When he left go, the arrow shot forward, but then slammed directly into the earth a few feet away. 

Malek, who did not seem impressed, smacked him on the back of the head and told him to take his retake his place. "Come on then, you." Ewoden nearly breathing when the Sarafan general pointed directly at him. He didn't make the mistake of loosing his composure and quickly stepped up. He'd seen archers shoot before so he knew the pose. It was back when he was about ten, one of the slaves had tired to escape, but one of the guards, an exceptional archery put an arrow in his back. He held the bow forward, the first two fingers of his left hand clutched around it, the rest giving support to the thumb.

Whimpering slightly, he proceeded to put an arrow on top of his forefinger, resting the arrow end against the string and then gently pulling back until he could fell the tension build up, the point on the arrow nearly resting on his flesh. He closed on eye, lining the tip of the arrow up with the area, roughly, where he thought a kill shot to the head might take place. 

With a roar he released and the arrow soared forward. To his disappointment however, it swerved slightly thanks to a gust of wind and embedded itself in the neck. Ewoden paused, waiting for the smack on the back of the head. Instead, Malek simply grumbled something and said that it wasn't a too bad attempt. 

After that, the recruits lined up in rows of three and on Malek's order, they fired at the target. It continued on for a good few hours and it was probably sometime into the evening when Ewoden felt he had acquired mediocre skills with a marksman type weapon. He'd hit the heart of the first target several times, and on one occasion, although he put that down to luck more than anything else, managed to put an arrow through the head of another target that was at least a good few hundred feet away. When Malek finally called a end to the training, the field was littered with arrows. Very few had, apart from Ewoden and some others had actually hit the target. Malek was not extremely annoyed and so no one dared to say anything as they went to retrieve the arrows. 

Malek was about to reenter the armoury when he felt something. It was avery familiar sort of feeling, one he'd felt before countless times. He shuddered, retracing his steps quickly, pulling his pike up. He clasped his weapon in both hands, waiting slightly. The new recruits didn't pay much attention to him as they putt the arrows back into the sacks, lightly chatting to themselves. Suddenly, the air itself seemed to be imbued with it's own will power, forcing Malek down onto the ground with a blast of white energy. Confusion instantly ensued, chaos reigning as panic gripped them all as one by one they where all floored by some invisible enemy. Ewoden luckily had been pushed over by some other recruit was so whatever was doing this missed him.

Then, a soft laugher echoed through the air and suddenly a strange, green figure emerged from the shadow, standing directly on top of the wall surrounding the courtyard.

"You!" Malek growled, forging himself to his feet. Staring at the green skinned figure, who simply stared back with a defiant grin. "First of Audron's scum!" 

"Nice to see you again too Malek." He chuckled, before looking past the angry Sarafan commander toward the group behind him, who were standing around dumbfounded. "You must be jesting me." The vampire reared back his head and laughed. "These school boys are the Sarafan's new recruits?" Suddenly, Ewoden realized who their mysterious vampire visitor was. The green skin, bat like ears and spikes of green hair on both sides of the chin. Yellow piercing eyes. Even down in the mines, the slaves knew of this being. Vorador, one of the oldest vampires in Nosgoth and the first human to be turned by the titan Janos Audron. "Standards have slipped." Malek tore his pike up from the ground and with a battle cry charged toward him, preparing to slice the vampire down the middle with the blade. Vorador simple grinned, side stepping to avoid the slash, before dealing the Sarafan knight a kick to the ribs. 

Both fell down to the floor and at once a vicious fight ensued. Malek wielded his pike with skill the likes of which Ewoden could only stand in awe at, the speed, the agility and focused power was incredible, but it wasn't enough to combat Vorador's speed, which allowed him to slip through Malek's melee. 

Finally, Vorador finished the battle by head butting the Sarafan leader, forcing him down onto his backside. He grinned, before jumped to the side, grabbing one of the nearest new recruits and effortlessly tearing his head off. Ewoden was transfixed in horror, he'd seen blood before and did not consider himself at all squeamish, but he left his stomach turn itself inside out at the fountain was pouring from the now headless body, the head itself now half hidden in the grass. The others seemed to back away in terror, some screaming despite of themselves. Vorador seemed amused by the death, the terror and horror he was forcing on them. He quickly sipped some blood from the corpse, before tossing it nimbly into Malek, knocking him down again. 

"I look forward to seeing the rest of you fools on the end of the blade." He said with a blood ridden smile, before leaping backward onto the wall and then backwards again in the evening darkness.

"Come back here you bastard!" Malek roared, his armour covered in blood, shoving the dead body off him. 

Ewoden was detached from the world. The gore of what had just happened hadn't sunk in, and the chaos around him seemed dulled and far. He was no stranger to death, he had seen many a man die in the mines, but never like that. There was something, almost poetic about the way the vampire dispatched his victim. He did it with such ease, even while his attention was else ware, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him. 

Meobius watched with disapproval as Malek stamped around yelling curses in unmatched rage from the window of his personal chambers. "Idiot." He muttered, turning away.


	4. An eternal nightmare

The Sarafan hard broken through the doorway, coming through the corridors of the vampire stronghold in their hundreds, swarming down the corridors like a swarm, mutilating any vampire that got in their way. Females, trying to defend the smaller fledgling where the first to fall, the fledglings next, and final the old males were captured, and then slain for the General's amusement. Their leader however, the one they had come to collect was still holding out inside the tower that lance dup from the stronghold's courtyard. For three whole days, the Sarafan camped outside the tower, waiting for the vampire to grow hungry enough to venture down and attempt to feed on one of them. Eventually they declutched that he must have his own supply of fresh meat, so waiting for him was not working. 

Calling forth the battering rams, they overpowered the doors and began tearing into the tower as they had the surrounding fort. Masses of vampires came forth to try and protect their master. They all fell under the Sarafan banner within moments, and within minutes the general himself advanced up into the tower's upper chamber. To face their master.

An elder, probably one of Audron's lesser spawn stood waiting for them at the apex. Clawed hands and feet ready to tear into soft flesh, sharp long fangs waiting to drain the blood of his adversaries. Lord Malek himself was leading the attack, this ancient was not with fates good graces. Within moments, he was lying half dead as Malek's feet. 

Before the Sarafan leader struck the deadly blow however, he paused and turned to the solider next to him. 

"This one wasn't much of a challenge, you finish it off for me." He said with a yawn, passing the Sarafan knight his pike. The knight accepted the weapon, hesitated for a moment, before walking over to the defeated ancient. He stared into it's eyes. Despite their yellow glow and silted feline like pupils, they were pleading with them for mercy. Without waiting, the solider drove the weapon directly down, impaling the immortal creature directly through the chest. 

A ear shattering scream escaped it's lips. 

Ewoden awoke with a loud yell, his face covered with sweat. His breathing was drawn out, was if the exhaled air was scrapping against his teeth. He found himself back in the place he'd gone to sleep, the lower barracks in the Sarafan stronghold. Moonlight from the white orb in the night sky outside was shinning in through the stained glass windows directly behind him. Others beds were lined up in a parallel series of rows, each one containing a sleeping Sarafan knight, their armour and weaponry lying next to a personal trunk at the end of each bed. Ewoden bent over, his stomach reeling. He reached for a chamber pot and vomited violently into it. He stayed in that position for a good few minutes, visibly shaking. 

"Ah crap." He said to himself, placing the now full pot back down on the floor. That same nightmare again. One that had been haunting him for some time now. The vivid memory of his first official aid with the bulk of the Sarafan army on a vampire stronghold they'd discovered north of their own fort. He doubted that he'd developed the stomach for it, even now, one year after becoming an official member of the Sarafan order. During that year, the training had been tough. His trainers, Raziel, Dumah, Turel and Malek had pushed him and others hard, forcing them to develop the skills necessary to survive on the battlefield. His long bow, and several large steal arrows lay on the floor on the right hand side of his bed. A long sword, Axe and shield was placed carefully on the top of the chest at the end of his bed. Ewoden was no longer the skinny, starved slave Lord Meobius had plucked from the Wilendorf mines. He was well built, scars from his battles and from the earlier harsh training running along his arms. Two large scars had been stuck on the left hand side of his face, blemishing his handsome features. His red hair was always in a complete mess, jagged and unclean. 

Sleep was usually impossible after that imprinted, soul shattering vision. So Ewoden pulled himself out from under the white covered, put on his brown pants and simply went for a walk. He knew that it was after curfew but he didn't much care. No one on knight patrol reported him, as they'd been talking midnight walks themselves no and then. Ewoden let his mind go limp as he travelled down the corridors, barley noticing the beautiful architecture and impressions on the stained glass that had stunned him only a year before. 

Ever since the dreams started Ewoden realized that he simply wasn't cut out for all this. But he dared not say anything. No never left the Sarafan army, or where either executed for treason, cowardice or you died in battle. None of those options appealed to him. 

"Third time this week." Said a voice and instantly Ewoden snapped to attention. Coming down the corridor was his superior, one of the elite Sarafan generals. Clad in orange and gold armour, a cruel looking blade attached to his left arm was Raziel. The man who had taught Ewoden his skills with a long blade, although since Malek was teaching archery Ewoden was considerably more skills at that. 

"My lord!" Ewoden exclaimed, arms at his sides, standing perfectly still. 

"At ease, your not on parade." Raziel said, gesturing toward him gently. Ewoden relaxed, but only slightly. "Nightmares I'm willing to wager." He added slyly, placing a hand upon his chin. Ewoden looked down at the ground and nodded once. "Ask lord Meobius for something to settle your mind, he may not be as good at apothecary as the Guardian of States, but he's supplied me with a nightmare remedy more than once." He tapped Ewoden on the shoulder, smiled, and then walked on past him. "But if I find your out of bed after curfew again, I will have to make an example of you." Ewoden swallowed hard, waiting till he was sure his superior officer was a good distance away before moving on. 

He might as well try it, it was certainly better than confusing his uneasiness and being._expelled_.from the Sarafan order. Lord Moebius' chambers were at the top of the fortress, despite him having another room devoted to his time streaming studies in the lower left wing. From observation, Ewoden knew that Moebius was close friends with the Sarafan elite. He was like a father to them of sorts, and they fought with a fanatical devotion in his name, none more so than Raziel. In truth, their devotion and blind faith in Moebius scared the soldiers a little. Climbing quickly up a large flight of stone stairs ton the upper floors, engaging in brief conversation with a guard standing outside the entrance to the tower's entry, Ewoden made his way up toward the large set of wooden doors that marked one of Moebius' many chambers within the tower itself. He knocked, and waited. No one answered. He knocked again, and still no reply. After another few moments, he pushed the door open and poked his head inside. 

The chamber was different from the others inside the fortress. Red Sarafan banners hung on every wall. Tables, covered with various parts from the machines Moebius constructed in the lower rooms, stood around the outside walls. The ceiling ascended into one point directly in the middle and was titled, creating the affect of sloping scales. A large hourglass, sand still pouring downward sat on another table. It was one of Mobius' relics, one which he seemed extremely proud of, the glass containing the and was well polished and gleamed brightly in the candlelight. Moebius himself however was nowhere to be seen.

He went inside and for some very strange reason, felt extremely vulnerable. He was bare-chested, without weapons or armour, but something else was making him feel like this. Some alien force this room had was playing upon him. He'd never come up here before, and he suspected at as soon as he got what he wanted from Lord Moebius he would try not to come here again. Upon noticing a set of scrolling lying on a nearby table, Ewoden's curiosity got the better of him and he foolishly proceeded to pick one up and unroll it. Luckily for him, whatever was written on it was unreadable, some form of ancient language, long since passed away. Rummaging through the others, he discovered they were all written in the same text. Dismissing them was unreadable, he moved on. An open chest lay hidden behind a table, other scrolls, robes and others bits and pieces poking out of it. What drew Ewoden's attention however was a strange stone sitting on top of an open scroll. 

Probably only about the size of a balled fist and rectangular, mint green in colour, like rocks from the bottom of the ocean. Something peeked his curiosity about it and he bent down and picked it up.

Instantly he was flung from this world, his senses whirled and spun. His stomach turned inside out, twisted and churning inside him. In his frenzy of pain and agony, he saw things, sensed things. Saw terrible visions. He saw three races all proud and grand, living together in paradise. But discord infected them all, seeded amongst them by some dark entity...a seething mass of tentacles and within moments, or a lifetime, the three races were at each other's throats. 

He dropped the stone and it fell back into the chest, and he found himself standing alone in Moebius' chambers again. He stood there, paralysed by fear for a moment. Before he lost the strength in his legs and collapsed to a sitting position. He was still dreaming. He had to be still trapped in that nightmare. He let himself fell the cold stone beneath him, to verify that he was indeed awake. Moebius was a sorcerer, he reminded him, his chambers were bound to be filled with many enchanted items. He regained his composure by sheer willpower and quickly, but rather unsteadily got to his feet again.

"What are you doing in here?" Asked a sharp, elderly voice. Moebius had returned, coming in through the set of doors behind him. He did not look entirely pleased to find someone waiting for him. His thin bony fingers tightened around his serpent like staff, his dull greys eyes locked onto Ewoden with a piercing gaze. Ewoden hesitated several times before blurting out a stammering reply. Moebius pushed his lips together. "Nightmares." He grumbled something, before walking over to another table, opening a small bow and removing a small leather purse. "Take some of these with a drink of water, they should help you sleep peacefully." Ewoden inspected the bag once the old man passed to him. It contained a soft pink powder. "Now, if you excuse me, I have work to do." Ewoden let himself out, before found his curiosity was peeking again. He screamed at himself to just turn away and go back to the barracks, but found that he wasn't listening. He waited outside the door, listening to the old man grumble. 

"I've got to be insane." He said to himself, realizing what he was doing. He was about to do, when Meobius began talking to himself.

"Master. my great Elder god. we continue our work to remove the heretic races, vampires and Hylden, who refused to worship you."

"Looks like I'm not the only one." He added, staring in confusion through the partly open door, his grip tightening around the leather purse in his hand. Moebius was one his knees, facing the window on the far side of the chamber, like he was praying. To Ewoden;s surprise, he raised the strange green stone in both hands, offering it forward to some point in front of him. His mouth dropped when the stone started to emit a soft green glow.

"The souls of the dead are mine to do with as I see fit, they provide me with sustenance.food. When the appointed time comes, when all rightfully worship me, I shall reward those who have remained loyal." Ewoden had heard enough. He silenced his curiousness and descended the rotating stone stairs and fast as he could, nearly falling down a trip step. Within moments he found his way into the barracks, grabbed some water from the barrel placed outside the door and downed the entire contents of the leather purse within it, before forcing himself into bed. 

Terror pushed himself into sleep, one haunted by more nightmares. Not of vampires and death, but of a black sea of slithering, slimily tentacles. 


	5. A surprising turn

(Glad to see a lot of people like the fic, things start taking a part in the Lok events from here.)

"An entire nest of the fiends." Summer had past autumn following soon after and already flakes of snow were beginning to fall down from the grey overcast sky overhead. 

"But we had swept that area already." Nestled comfortably in it's cliffs, the stronghold was impervious to outside attack, and so those of night duty simply strode along the top of the walls, talking to each other, exchanging rumours and other pieces of gossip. 

"Not well enough, but no matter." Ewoden had told no one what he had seen and felt when he spied on their Master, the time streamer. He wasn't sure if any one would believe him, besides, he wasn't sure if it believed what he saw himself. "We purged every last one of that group with fire." Clad entirely in Sarafan armour, made from silver and steal, one would never have guessed that he had been slave. As his side was a golden long bow, moulded into the shape of a pair of angels wings. He was also one of the few to carry a large axe, magically bless by the Sarafan sorcerers to inflicted more damage when it struck an opponent, especially if it's target was a vampire. "May their souls now rest." He looked to his companion a large, broad shouldered man called Darikoth as they crossed a bridge overhanging a small courtyard in the eastern wing of the stronghold. Snow falling all around them. A lot of the Sarafan army were away, doing various raids. One regiment had been dispatched to Azimuth Cathedral and probably wouldn't be coming back still next summer. 

"Lord Moebius will be pleased." He said absently, detached from the other's devotion to the cause. In truth, while he had been encapsulated by the entire ambition the Sarafan had for a time, he had lost whatever motivation propelled the others. He paused as they reached the large gates refusing access to the stone building in front and indulged himself in moment of soul searching. It was getting harder and harder to maintain his service. He was grateful to the Sarafan for liberating him, but he didn't want them to serve them until his dying years. He considered trying to leave more than once but he could find no way to leave the stronghold undetected and permission was never, exactly, given. 

His thoughts drifted again to Moebius and the strange stone he kept inside his chambers, through which he conversed with some…thing. What could he have been speaking with, and what exactly did he say, he couldn't remember now. But those horrible visions, they'd shaken him. He began to wonder, could Lord Moebius be one of the infamous demon worshippers of popular rumour? But to think of it, his knowledge of such things was that of a layman. 

"Say, what do you know of demon worship?" He suddenly blurted out to his companion without thinking about it, who stood stock still and stared at him, his wide, stunned eyes clearly visible through the visor. They'd stopped on the battlements overlooked a courtyard just outside a pitted arena were Sarafan knights duelled each other for practise. The impaled victims of their crusade lining the abyss beyond the stronghold walls. It stood completely empty, snow lightly gathering on it's cold stone floor. 

"Did I hear you correctly?" 

"Yes, I said what do you know of demon…." The companion pushed him against the side of the wall. Ewoden was so caught of guard he exclaimed out loud. "Silence. Or I'll cut your throat!" Ewoden suddenly grew very silent, his hands pressed against the back of the wall. "You seek demon worship?" Ewoden was about to answer but his fellow Sarafan cut him off. "An unusual hobby for a Sarafan warrior, but I'll indulge you just the same." he paused to give the surrounding walkways a glance to ensure himself that they were alone. "There are those of use in the army who are loyal to the god, the one true god, the one good whose name remains unspoken in the church and the Circle." Ewoden began to wonder what it was that managed to land him in these ridiculous and dangerous situations. "If you're interested…" Darikoth reached into his bag, withdrawing a red book from a concealed pouch hidden under the leather. "The real holy scriptures." Ewoden looked slightly scared as he was passed the book, the pages open. Written in italic letters on the right hand page were words, that from the very first line sent a shiver down his spine. "Hash, ak, Gik spoke to the world and all who heard trembled. Bring me your first born and shed their blood upon the alter of the world so that I may take nourishment from them." Ewoden's mouth fell open in astonishment as Darikoth chanted the words. "Do this without question or suffer my wrath for eternity." He lifted the steal mask from over his face so Ewoden could see him probably. There was a large smile on his face. Ewoden realized with horror, he thought himself a missionary. "And it's will was done."

A loud scream ripped through the air, quickly silenced.

"What was that?!" His companion demanded, snapping his head up, quickly pushing the book back into it's hiding place. 

Pushing past Ewoden, he began running back the way he came, making some presumption that the source of the sudden disturbance. Ewoden remained steadfast, rotted to the spot. His mind numb from terror. Not only Moebius, now the Sarafan soldiers themselves were conversing with strange gods…even worshiping them….shedding the blood of their first born, doing it willingly? How far into the army had this corruption spread? 

"Vae Victus!" The words pounded out of oblivion, followed by another, quickly silenced masculine scream. Suddenly, a pair of doors on the far side of the battlements that lead into the interior of the stronghold burst open. Ewoden looked up. He'd expected to see more Sarafan soldiers, but instead was greeted by a solitary figure.

At first he was filled with intense fear, mistaking the figure for the infamous vampire Vorador. But as it stepped into the winter light, it's features were observed far better. Indeed it hard green skin like Vorador, but it's physically appearance was far more muscular. It's hair was long and snow white, tied back behind it by a golden band. Several horns, covered it's what appeared to be it's segmented green skin, lined it's forehead in neat rows. It wore nothing apart from a red drape over it's right shoulder and a leather belt around it's chest waist upward. A strange, highly uncommon pair of black trousers, bound at the waist by a steal belt. In it's right hand it brandished the strangest blade Ewoden had ever seen. An ivory skull hilt with two pairs of horns leading off at either side. The blade itself was mint green and curved, almost like the waves on the surface of water. Fresh blood was dripping from it's tip. But what gave itself away were the cloven feet and hands, each protected by bone marrow gauntlets and greaves. 

"An elder vampire." Ewoden hissed to himself, reaching for his long bow and arrows. Before he could move however the vampire stretched out it's left hand and instantly Ewoden found himself restricted. Whatever happened had stripped him of mobility, no matter now hard he tried, he could not budge an inch. The vampire drew it's hand close to itself, and Ewoden found himself following it like a loyal dog, flung through the air toward the vampire's waiting arms. 

"Whatever gave you the idea was simply going to _let_ you assault me?" It asking, holding him in place for a moment, before flinging him across the battlements, slamming him into the wall. The shock passed through his body, weakening him significantly. His strength failing. Ewoden collapsed to the floor, barely supporting his weight on his hands. He tore off his helm, hardly able to breath with it on. 

He felt the tip of the vampire's sword rest gently on the back of his neck, the blood running down his skin, Goosebumps appearing all over his skin. "Where is your master?" Ewoden managed to pull his head up to look the vampire in the eyes. They were bright yellow, the pupils silted like those of a felines. A long scar stood out on his chest. "Before I loose my patience." He reached down and picked the Sarafan up by the head, his large palms covering his face. "Moebius is…" Ewoden could fell the vampire's grip tightening. He knew that if he didn't answer, he would crush his head. 

"In the tower…" He replied in the muffled voice. 

"Good. You may go now." The vampire replied, before tossing Ewoden over his head and back through the open doorway though which he'd just come. Sliding across the marble floor once he landed, before coming to a stop at the stone wall. It took him a few moments to regain himself, but eventually when he did look up the vampire was gone. The one evidence that he had been there at all were the strange tracks left in the snow.

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(Working up to something. Bear with the unbearable short chapters)


	6. The end of a sarafan lifestyle

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)Sorry this took so long. Been busy with other things.)

I do not own LOK

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How many of them were there? How many of them lay hidden behind the silver masks of the Sarafan army? How many of them were standing around him right now? Ewoden asked himself the same questions over and over again in panic. As always, he had stepped into something that was far over his head. There was demon worshipers, hidden amongst the Sarafan army. Ever since had had had the misfortunate to ask one of them about demon worship, he had found himself approached by more and more soldiers, offering him different texts from their…religion. They all varied in their style of writing, but the message was quite the same. Feed me blood, or feel my wrath.

But what could he do? Report them to the authority? Dear god, lord Moebius himself was probably one of them. 

Avernus Cathedral was a towering edifice, far too near to Wilendorf and the Provincial mines for Ewoden's taste. The magnificent city of Avernus was an ancient settlement, the cathedral constructed by the church as a monument to the defeat of some ancient vampire centuries ago. A splendid sight, the spires of the cathedral itself spiking into the clouds. Ewoden and his regiment where here to relieve those already station here. After a vampire had managed to infiltrate the stronghold, they descended to fortify it for the time being until greater security measures could be taken. Sarafan sorcerers and priests were already blessing the doors, meaning no vampire would be able to open them. 

Ewoden could not see why they needed to be stationed here at all. The city looked so peaceful, tranquil and settled. But, after a while something began to gnaw at him, some disturbance he could not quite place.

As they arrived through the gates of the city, some of the locals were there to greet them. Amongst them was a tall, very pale skinned man, dressed in a blood red robe. He wore a chest plate made from bone marrow, carved so it fitted over his shoulders and hung there. Two small spikes lanced out the back of the shoulder pads. His hair was raven black and slicked back over his head. His eyes were the most stunning thing. They had were completely blank, no pupils, no iris, just a white void. Ewoden tried to avoid staring at him, believing him blind. However, he had no trouble in spotting them, talking out into the middle of the muddy road.

"Good, you're finally here." He said with no hint of emotion in his voice. "We had some vampire trouble at the south end of the city, we chased a few into the wilderness by there might be some left in the shadows." He added, gesturing briefly to the city behind him. "Also, we've had demon manifestation in and around the cathedral." Ewoden swallowed hard as he and other Sarafan stepped off the wooden charts. "So do be careful those of you who get sent of guard duty." With that, he simply turned his back on them and started back toward the city gates, the towering cathedral in the distance. 

"Who was he?" Ewoden asked a passing solider. The other Sarafan paused for a moment. 

"Mortainious, you know, guardian of death for the circle." Ewoden had learned more and more of the Circle of Nine over the past few years in service of Lord Moebius and was now quite embarrassed that he had not know what the circle was. He glanced briefly off to the south west, and the gleaming nine white pillars that erupted from the ground and lanced upward toward the sky. 

Much as he had expected of his luck, tonight, along without another few doomed individuals, Ewoden was set on guard duty up to the cathedral. He felt like fate itself had him underfoot, as if it had taken some dislike to him. 

"Welcome fellow believer." Announced a voice and Ewoden froze as another Sarafan approached him, one he recognised as one of the men who had approached him with their words of the unspoken one. "Welcome to the place where we may approach the ones gaze, avert his wrath with the sacrifice and bask in his glory." Ewoden hesitated.

"What do you mean?" The other Sarafan stared at hi like was some sort of madman. 

"Avernus you idiot, Avernus." He paused briefly, realization hitting him. "Oh I see, you are new to our ways." He patted Ewoden on the shoulder. "Well don't worry, after tonight I'm sure you'll be fluent in the ways of Hash, ak, gik." Ewoden felt a lump form in his throat. That was most the clincher for him. Whatever courage had kept him going in the army failed.

"Forget this!" He said to himself. He was leaving, this evening, before these strange demon worshippers could drag him down to some sacrifice or brainwash him with some occult means. No amount of loyalty to the Sarafan cause could keep him here. He went without question to the cathedral, noting down everything he needed to make his escape, trying to act normal for the time being. He had provisions with him, as well as his enchanted weapons to stave off wild beasts and other things. All he had to do was make it to some settlement, preferably far away sell whatever he didn't need and continue on, assume a new name and wait till the Sarafan forgot about him.

However, the Sarafan did not go easy on deserters. They would hunt him down, regarding him little more than the vampires they slay. He should probably find some others means. Fake his own death perhaps? While the idea was far more practical, he had neither the knowledge or the means do so. His thoughts wrapped around him, he patrolled the cathedral grounds as the day progressed, hardly even noticing the impressive amount of detail and painstaking work that had gone into the cathedrals construction. Not even the massive, beautiful marble alter inside the main hall seemed to interest him.

It was twilight when he decided to finally make a break for it, believing that if he intended to escape, he could put it off now long. Now, he had to decide in which direction to travel. No way on Nosgoth he was heading south or east, toward Willendorf. So he resolved to travel northwest, knowing of a small town at the base of the mountains called Ushtenheim. He collected what he needed where he could and began to make his way through the cathedral to the front gates, the only other way out being the priests corridors behind the alter itself and he didn't want to attract attention by going that way. However, two guards were standing just outside.

Normally, such an obstacle wouldn't have bothered him but his watch wasn't due to end until midnight. As he was pondering how to get around this, the temperature in the air around him increased ten fold. 

It felt like he was on fire, the heat lashing at his skin. 

"Demon manifestation!" Someone screamed and instantly all was hurled into chaos. Three colossal beasts, each arriving through a ring of fire in the floor sprung forward. They were titanic, supported by goat legs with hooves. A massive shoulder length and arms, each one large spikes jutting out of them. Their teeth glinted evilly in the limelight, eyes burning like fiery coals and finally a large set of curved goat like horns on their foreheads. Turning to see this, the guards in front of Ewoden rushed forward with battle cries, drawing their pikes. 

All of it happened so quickly, blood went flying every, admits streams of fire. Ewoden found himself doing what he'd intended to do. He run, he ran from the chaos, out of the city gates, leaving his Sarafan brothers to fight alone. So that was officially it. He was a deserter. It didn't feel wrong, but then again it didn't feel right either. Presently however, he had other concerns, as he was being chased by one of those creatures. 

The demon was relentless in it's pursuit. It strode over the grass plain just outside the city walls and Ewoden struggled through it, pulling his heavy armour along with him. He considered dropped it do he could run faster, but one looked back at that mouth filled with teeth and fire made him thing twice. He had no idea in which direction he was travelling, stumbling almost blindly into the forest. 

The demon followed, tearing through trees and bushes like they were nothing, burning down the thick overhead vines whenever they go in it's way. It was dead set of him and it seemed, had no intention of letting him escape. His mind frantically clawed at itself for ideas, anything he could do improve his present situation. 

He kept running, his feet sinking into the soft mud. He was running directly into a swamp, a dangerous place for any man. But right now he didn't care. All that registered with him was putting as much distance as possible between him as the demon spawn. 

The swamp was filled with long stretches of quick sand and mud pits, ready to swallow any foolish enough to step in them. The demon lurched forward, snapping at him. The fire inside it erupting in a flame toward him. Ewoden dodged to the side to avoid it, trying to maintain his speed. Instinct kicking in, he tore his bow from his back and fire several arrows at once toward the beast. They impacted it's arm, sinking into the flesh. It screamed in out rage and kept coming, Ewoden fired another volley, riddling it's other arm. All it did however was give the demon more incentive to come after him, quickening it's pace.

Fear and instinct ruling him, Ewoden tore his lat arrow him his pouch and swung around for the final time. The demon as nearly upon him, snapping at his heels. In a moment of irrational fear, he fired the arrow at point blank range directly into the demons head. 

The arrow, made from solid silver, pierced the skull of the creature and sank directly into his brain. The demon came to a complete stop, gave off one last grunt, before it's eyes went completely blank and it collapsed to the ground with a deafeningly loud thud, entangled in vines. Ewoden fell directly into the mud, coating his armour with it, several of his arrows lost into it.

Quickly he struggled over to the side of whatever pit he fallen into, using what remained of his strength to pull himself up. Suddenly, he heard a clapping noise. 

Ewoden looked up toward the figure standing over him, it's hands smacking against each other, looking down at him sceptically. That face had been etched into his memory for the past year, he knew very well who it was. Shaggy green fur covering his, glowing yellow eyes and tall erect bat like ears. Dressed in gentlemen's clothing, two large golden shoulder pads with a red drape hanging from each one. His boots made from black leather, the thick layer of the put around the heals showed that their owner had down a good deal of walking in this hazardous area.

"Impressive." He said approvingly. "You managed to kill it. I thought for a moment it was going to tear you to pieces." Ewoden tried to pull himself up, but sank even further into the mud, his armour dragging him down. The figure reached down with a soft chuckle, took hold of him by the back of the neck and forcibly removed him from the swamps grip, depositing him on more stable ground. Ewoden sat there, covered in mud, his weapons lying only a foot away yet he was so paralysed with fear he couldn't move. 

"V…vvvvorador…." He managed to stammer. The vampire continued his stare. 

"If you know my name? Well, enough stories are told about me on dark nights I suppose." He stared at Ewoden some more. In this brief silence, Ewoden pulled himself to his feet, his fingers trembling around the hilt of his sword.

"Don't worry, you've caught me in a good mood so I'm not going to kill you." Vorador added simply. Ewoden looked a little stunned. "You may be Sarafan, but one capable of defeating a fire demon deserves his life." He leaned a little closer, revealing his fangs hidden within his lips. "How do you feel about vampirism?" Ewoden yelped and dressed his sword, holding it defensibly in front of himself.. "Thought as much." The vampire added. "Rest easy, I make it a personal rule that the dark gift is never passed to a Sarafan." He began encircling Ewoden, studying him closely. "Not physically impressive, and you stink of fear. Apart from that, a fine example of…" He paused, his smile disappearing. "man." 

Ewoden stayed perfectly still, his reflexes still of high alert, ready to push him into attack should Vorador prove hostile, even though he was perfectly aware his odds of winning were remote. "Come…the swamp is no place for human or vampire to linger." He placed a cloven hand directly on Ewoden's shoulder and before he could react, a green haze engulfed him, swallowing his line of sinking, swallowing him whole. There a was a tingling displacement, and both of them vanished, leaving only a patch of burnt grass on the ground.


	7. Truths, lies and one's own prespective

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(This has been a long time coming. I haven't updated this is ages, but now I've got a very Large fanatic out of the way, I can concentrate on this.) 

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Ewoden couldn't hear anything. Everything seemed perfectly still. Hesitating only for a moment, he stepped out of his hiding place, sword in hand. The library of Vorador was a large chamber with a high arched roof, large wooden beams stretching across the ceiling. A large statue of some angelic warrior made from metal on the far side, distinctly femanine with spread wings and a large, cruel looking spear. Most of his armour had been taken by the vampires servants when they arrived and he had been locked in here with it. Was this what Vorador wanted him for, food for this thing?

"There you are..!" Said a soft voice from behind him. Ewoden yelped and swept around, already stumbled backwards. The female vampire looked amused at his distress, floating over with a playfully look on her pure white face. "For a Sarafan you are certainly easily startled." Ewoden leapt back to the far side of the large oak table, putting some distance between himself and it. Most of his armour had been confiscated when he arrived and he had been left with only his sword to defend himself with. This female vampire was playing with him, like a kitten would a ball of string. She was darkly beautiful, with a slender figure and short blonde hair. Deep black eyes and pale skin, a faint tinge of red on her cheeks, showing that she had fed recently. Dressed in very revealing silk drapes and a tight pair of leather trousers and boots, a dagger at her side.

Ewoden darted behind a bookcase, breathing hard as she began to giggle. His axe and arrows were taken away with his armour, as if Vorador had sensed that he was more skilled with them than he was with a blade. Did he probe his mind to give his creature the advantage in this bizarre came of hide and seek? A though occurred that so far, it hadn't harmed him, not even tried to for that matter. She had only hovered around like some omnipresent spectre, letting himself frighten the living daylights out of him. Ewoden looked back through the space between two large red books and saw nothing but the empty library, not even a shadow large or dark enough to hide the vampire. His sword still at the ready he poked his head out from his hiding place, his eyes scanning the large chamber, the arched roof with banisters above and the corridors between the book shelves. Nothing. Had she gotten bored and flown off?

Only a complacent fool would make that assumption. Vampires were skilled in the arts of stealth, one could be standing right behind you and you wouldn't know it. On that note, he cast a glance over his shoulder.

At the far end of the library was a large set of glass doors that opened up into a balcony, overlooking the swamp. The city of Avernus, the towering white cathedral visible on the horizon. The night sky high above. Ewoden was at a loose as what to do with himself now. He couldn't go back to the Sarafan, not after what he had seen and learned there. This, Hash, Ak, Gik or whatever it was, worshiped by the secret order with the army itself attempting to recruit him into it's devotion. Ewoden just wanted to live with conflict, but it seemed in Nosgoth such a course of action was not possible. There were simply took many conflicts. Caught up in his thoughts, his reflexes were fast enough to make him jump away as the female vampire descended silently from the ceiling, floated beside him for a minute with a seductive look on her face, before kissing him gently on the cheek. He yelped at the touch and darted to the side, already breathing heavily. Suddenly he realized what had just happened and he held a hand to his face, blushing. She giggled at him again.

"Don't worry little mortal, I won't bite." She said causally, but showing him her fangs anyway. "And don't be alarmed by my manor, I'm not one of the master's brides so I'm not breaking any vows by flirting with you."

"You call this flirting?" Ewoden asked shakily, his eyes wide and his fingers still wrapped around the hilt of his sword, trembling slightly. She floated nearer, fixer her with her eyes and suddenly he found himself staring into them. It was then he saw something, something that as a Sarafan, he knew could not be true. He saw a soul, he saw a soul directly through those eyes. He saw life, the spark of wildness. From the moment they received their training, Sarafan recruits were taught that Vampires lost their souls when they became undead, that it was alright to kill them as they were simply empty shells. He could plainly see that that was not true. His sword dropped from his hand, clattering against the floor with a loud clank. A move that Malek would have brutally scolded him for back at the fortress. It was this shock that made him vulnerable to her advances.

By the time Ewoden regained his wits, he found himself lying beside her upon the table, her arm placed around him, thankfully both their clothes still on, although a bit more of her revealed than he thought decent. Her eyes closed and a content look on her face. Some deal of tiem must have passed, as the overcast day outside loomed through the windows, the fait light barley reaching into the room. Surprisingly, his first instinct was not to frantically search for his sword and drive it through her chest.

"Sally." He said, suddenly remembering what she had introduced herself as, before she kissed him again. He rubbed his bare hand against his neck to check if there were any marks. Thankfully there were none.

"Don't go." She said as he tried to sit up, her eyes still closed. Ewoden blinked, looking down at her face. Were it not for the pointed ears, he would have easily mistaken her for a human woman. "You're the first one that's actually made me feel warm in years." Ewoden remained still for a moment, before lying back down. It felt odd lying her with her, but not as odd as he originally thought it would. "You have many scars." She added suddenly, one eye opening lazily, fixed on the scars and lashing down his arms and shoulder souvenirs from his youth inside the slave mine. She reach up to her shoulder and pulled back her clothes, to reveal her shoulders and the many hideous scars upon them that he had failed to notice before. The only blemish to her otherwise flawless figure. "Willendorf has always been exceptional cruel to it's slaves." Ewoden hesitated.

"You mean, you were a…

"Once a slave like you." The former Sarafan was left stunned, only coming back into reality with a blink. "You were liberated by the Sarafan, I was liberated by the master." Whatever preconceptions the Sarafan had imposed on him were thrown out the window at that point, vampire or not, Sally was another **_person _**who had suffered the mines. He sighed out through his nose and closed his eyes. Another Sarafan lesson was proved false. Vampires were not as cold as ice, they were as warm as any living thing.

An hour of so passed and they remained in this position, hardly moving at all. Exactly what Vorador had had in mind when he placed him inside his library he wasn't certain. The light hardly made it's way through windows, as if some kind of sorcery kept it out. Eventually, Sally reluctantly stirred.

"Hungry?" Ewoden asked as she left his side, floating upward. She looked back with a rather sad expression on her face.

"Yes. I know as a Sarafan it's your duty to kill vampires Ewoden, but please understand I've never bitten the throat of a living creature." Ewoden paused, about to ask if that were true, how had she survived when the large set of wooden doors at the far end of the library, the ones leading into the mansion itself flung open and Vorador stepped in, followed by more of his servants. His thin green fur highlighted almost perfectly by the early morning light.

"Good Morning." He said plainly as his servants descended the set of stairs that curved down from the door and into the library itself and Ewoden was surprised to find that they were carrying his Sarafan armour and weapons, all repairs and his arrows replaced. "Sally would you excuse the young Sarafan and myself for a moment, go and get some breakfast." She bowed respectfully in mid air, shimmered and then seemed to vanish. "You're a rare kind." Vorador added as his servants began placing the former Sarafan's armour on him. He thought it best to let them, remaining as still as possible. "You have to be the most open minded human in Nosgoth."

"What makes you say that?" Ewoden asked back. Vorador gave him a side glance.

"You didn't try to kill Sally when I locked you in here for the night, you had a blade, but didn't use it. You saw the truth, you saw that we are living creatures, not empty destructive monsters." Ewoden remained still.

"That much can be said for Sally, but hardly for yourself." he added in an almost calm tone. Vorador's servants hesitated, before continuing with their work, fixing his axe to his belt with a leather patch. "Your performance at the Sarafan stronghold, killing a man before the gathered crowd of new recruits, only enforces the Sarafan's status quo." The vampire elder managed the humoured smile.

"Oh, you were there for that were you?" he sighed. "That was revenge for the slaughter of one of my many brides by a Sarafan inquisitor, goes by the name of Dumah." Ewoden hesitated. "I had hoped to kill him, but he is always too well guarded so I decided to take it out of the newest batch of vampire killers." Ewoden's gaze remained transfixed. "My actions to not reflect the feelings of all vampires in Nosgoth. This is my personal war against them, yet the Sarafan continue to hunt down and kill all vampires within Nosgoth's borders." Ewoden remained quiet and once they were finished, Vorador's vampiric servants handed him his helm and quickly backed off, some disappearing back through the library's door completely.

"I'm taking you and Sally to see my sire." Vorador added sharply, changing the subject. Ewoden blinked.

"You're sire?"

"The vampire that created me." He replied, turning his back and making his way toward the staircase. Ewoden's mind raced and he remembered the profile the Sarafan had drawn up regarding the ancient vampire. Vorador's creator was none other than the infamous Janos Audron. Legend says he lived far north in the ring of mountains that stood towering over Nosgoth, high above the village of Uschtenheim. He was rarely seen, even by the Sarafan hunters, but all reports suggested a winged demon with raven black feathers and demonic golden eyes. Legend had it, his heart could restore life to a vampire long since dead. "You see, every now and then, I take fledglings to study arcane and ancient arts of magic and other forms of lost art. You've impressed me, and so I'm giving you the honour as well." Ewoden followed Vorador up the stairs, keeping one hand near his axe and bow. Vampires may not be what he expected, but he still didn't feel completely safe in this place.

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**If anyone has any suggestions for plot and other things, feel free to add them in reviews, E-mail, whatever**


	8. The Mountain Aerie

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The cold mountain air was like a slap in the face from the dramatic change from the warmth of Vorador's mansion. Ewoden shivered involuntarily as the cold blizzard snow feel into the cracks between his armour, for some additional warmth, he placed his helm upon his face, although this provided little protection from the cold. As if sensing it, Sally hovered closer, letting her own warm radiate to him.

Vorador made a deep resonating sound in his throat and gently scanned around the chamber into which they he had transported them. It was an extensive room, with a large balcony facing a sheer fifty foot drop behind them. Ewoden glanced over it, the snow prevented him from seeing the bottom, but he could see far enough to tell that a fall from this height would prove fatal. He backed away from the edge and joined the others as they ventured further in, which despite it's vulnerability to the harsh weather, was surprisingly warmer.

Ewoden looked out toward the blizzard again. Somewhere out there was the Garrison stationed near Uschtenheim. Out of the white blur he could almost see it, the flags flutturing on the battlements. What the Sarafan consider him now, he asked himself. Dead or a traitor. If they thought he was dead, they certainly wouldn't find his body, and as far as they knew he had no buisiness for running away. Either way, he had left them, for what he expected as for good. To his delight, that notion wasn't as distrubing as he thought.

There was a large fire place on the left hand side of the chamber, a strange, glass table with a golden frame sitting just in front of it. Several books, written in an unrecognisable language lay on the top. The ceiling high above was carved completely out of stone, with architecture that rivalled the Sarafan fortress. This chamber indeed was far grander than any hall he had seen in the stronghold. A long, red carpet ran the length of the chamber, running up to a set of stone doors at the far end. It was covered with strange markings and directly down the centre was the image of a sword, the door diverted directly down the middle. The weapon depicted looked strangely familiar. Ewoden diverted his attention to the rest of the chamber to take in it's lay out more carefully, a skill of patience

Two flights of stone stairs, each one beautifully carved and a mirror opposite of the other. They lead up to another banister, jutting out from a second level. The light was sparse up there and he didn't get a good enough look at it. Apart from various, angelic murals on the walls, all depicting the same blue skinned people with raven's wings, what grabbed the former Sarafan's attention at once was the basins around the outside of the chamber. Made completely of brass and large enough it seemed to hold a man inside, most were empty, but one had a small amount of red liquid lying at the bottom, a strong copper like smell gently drifting to his nostrils. He hesitated, and then backed away.

"He must not be here." Sally ventured absently, sitting herself down in a wooden chair near the fire, crossing her legs. Vorador cast her an unimpressed look, before venturing over to the large door at the far end.

"My sire rarely leaves his Aerie." He said dryly, pushing the massive door, the hinges creaking loudly, open with ease, revealing a stone corridor beyond that neither of them got a good enough glimpse of. "He may be in one of the lower chambers. Remain here until I return." With that, he was gone, the door shutting by itself after him.

"Janos Audron…" Ewoden began, muttering lightly to himself. Within minutes, he realized, he may be introduced to the father of vampires himself, the one creature the Sarafan Order wanted dead most desperately. He wondered briefly what he would look like, or how he would act. In earlier years, he would have expected a creature more like a demon, fitting in with the stories and depictions the Sarafan found popular.

His recent discoveries about the true nature of vampires would now allow him to be deceived by it however. He took off his helm and placed it on the table, letting his logn red hair spill out. He realized then that he needed a fresh perspective and a open mind, that is if he wanted to survive. So caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice Sally float over and without warning, nuzzle her cheek against his.

"I do hope you realise that you're the first human to be here in centuries." She whispered into his ear, her arms already flung around him affectionately. "And a Sarafan too! I can't even begin to imagine what the odds are against that." Ewoden said nothing. His gaze was suddenly fixed on the murals around the room. He had seen that strange angel like race before, always shown here fighting with strange, demonic looking creatures, they were humanoid in appearance yet had insect like skin and strange projections growing out of their foreheads and backs. There were only a few murals, but they all seemed to show various different battles between these blue winged beings and these new creatures.

"Have you ever seen Janos Audron?" He asked. Sally past him a coy look and smiled.

"I haven't had the honour. Those that study under him go usually disappear to the far reaches of Nosgoth in towns and cities were the vampire population is sparse." Ewoden cast another look up at the murals on the walls.

"So what's with the blue angels?" Sally looked up as well. "Vorador has a couple of similar paintings inside his mansion, not to mention that statue inside his library. Do vampire, worship these angels as gods or something?" Sally hesitated, her yellow eyes suddenly full of longing.

"Vorador has told us little of them, but from what he will say, these angels are what vampires used to be." Ewoden froze.

"Used to be? What do you mean?" Sally floated back, her arms folded behind her back, her head tilted to the side in a very child like puzzlement.

"Some blood poison, or curse, tainted these beings and the basic vampires around today are the result. Vorador was always a little vague on the subject, refusing to speak about it directly." Ewoden turned to face her.

"So, vampire are the decedents of these…_people_?" He asked, hesitating on the last world. Sally shrugged and floated closer to the fire, defying gravity again.

"Maybe, maybe not. Only Vorador and Janos know for sure, and it's probably best not to ask." Ewoden stared after her for a moment, unsure of what to say, before the doors through which Vorador had left swung open and the elder Vampire re-entered, but following close behind him was a figure that instantly set the former Sarafan's imagination on fire. It would be as tall as Vorador, were it not for the Ancient vampire's larger ears. It's skin was the purest sky blue, and a giant pair of raven's wings gently flowed out the back. Like Vorador, it had cloven hands and taloned feet, almost like those on a bird. A pair of golden eyes staring directly at them. Apart from these differences, the figure was surprisingly human like, with hard set cheeks a short nose and a soft chin. It was quite muscular to, on par with Ewoden even. It was dressed in very old style clothing, even for some of the less developed settlements to the west. The clothes were completely white, long and trailing, almost like those one would expect on a Priest or a Bishop. Ewoden knew in an instant, he was looking at one of the angel's he had been observing in the pictures only moments ago and by the way Sally quickly asserted herself and bowed in mid air, he could tell he was also looking at the one and only Janos Audron. Whatever he might have expected the father of vampires to look like, this was certainly not it.

"Indeed, just as startling as you told me Vorador." He said with a soft, detached voice that made Ewoden feel numb for some bizarre reason. His wings stretched out, then refolded as he walked over. Ewoden remained perfectly still, making sure his hands were no where near his weapons. He suspected that even if were to get a second of distraction, an attack upon him would be pointless in more ways than one. Janos was certainly not the demon told about in the Sarafan army, but an impressive figure none the less. "Sarafan most certainly." Ewoden swallowed involuntarily. Janos slowly extended an arm, his outstretched three fingered hand toward him palm down. He stopped just before the top of the tallest, wide finger touched the humans face. There was a brief moment of silence in which not even the howling winds only a few feet away seemed to break through. Afterwards, Janos retracted his hand with a surprised look on his face. "Not an aggressive thought at all, and you are Sarafan?" Vorador walked up beside his sire with a side smile, his arms behind his back.

"Did I not tell you, a rare find is it not? The first Sarafan who hasn't clawed at our throats upon sighting us?" Janos nodded in agreement.

"Tell me young human…what is your name?" He asked and Ewoden found a frog forming in his throat, almost preventing him from answering. But when he did, he managed to say it without stuttering in fear and amazement.

"Ewoden." Janos seemed pleased with this response, putting his hand on the right pauldron of his Sarafan armour.

"Despite your ties, you are welcome here." Janos looked over toward Sally, who kept her head low in respect. "Rise child, you need not lower your eyes in my presence nor do I expect it." Sally blushed an rose. Ewoden could see, despite her immortality and vampiric seductive nature, she was more like a schoolgirl than anything else. "You are both here to learn the lost arts, although it may prove more taxing for you." He added, giving Ewoden a second glance. "But it is late, and I am tried. We shall start your lessons tomorrow night, until then feel free to explore my retreat as much as you want." Without another word he turned to Vorador and two began talking in some strange language to ensure their conversation was kept private. Ewoden was left a little speechless for a moment, before he quickly backed away toward the fire.

"You impressed him I think." Sally stated, looking rather pleased, latching onto him again with a affectionate hug, which Ewoden did not object to.

"He's one of the angels…from the murals."

"I noticed."

"It's just…not exactly what I…

"Expected being a former Sarafan?" He shook his head, eyes wide and mouth pressed shut. He breathed out hard and sat down on the floor next to the fire, dropping his rather heavy axe next to him. "I like you, you've got to be the most humorous Sarafan in history." Under ordinary circumstances, Ewoden wouldn't have taken that comment as anything more than an insult. Coming from her however it seemed rather comforting.

* * *

"A vampire and a human, near lovers." Janos stated to Vorador, looking back over his shoulder toward them with a suspicious eye. Using the ancient tongue, they ensured that they were not overheard. "Such a thing has not happened for eons, not since the days before the Unspoken ones created the curse." Vorador nodded.

"Ewoden is a rare soul. He may have been Sarafan once, but he has seen through Meobius lies'." Janos sighed.

"You still hate the Time Streamer?" Vorador nodded without delay. "Hate is not something you should dwell on my kin, I have told you this many times already. Besides, you may not need to concentrate on your holy war much longer." Vorador went to ad something, but paused before he could, caught on Janos' words.

"What do you mean sire?" A fresh, proud smile crossed the ancient vampires face.

"A vampire and a human, near lovers I said. This hopeful sign shows that the one is on the way." Vorador was left open mouthed, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Forgive me for being flippant, but those stories you live by are beginning to cloud your judgement." Janos shook his head in disappointment.

"My faith sustains me Vorador. I know what signs herald the beginning, and this…" He added, gesturing with a turn of his head to the two behind him. "Is one of them." Vorador looked unimpressed. "Believe what you must, but I know that the Scion of Balance is coming."

* * *


	9. Time passes

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(I do not own LOK)

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Vorador had taken his leave sometime when Ewoden had been asleep. Being with nocturnal creatures it seemed had strained his sense of time somewhat as when he roused from his dreams of strange blue angels, it was early in the afternoon. For a moment, he almost believed that he was back at the fortress and any moment now Razeil would storm through the barracks, rousing everyone for early morning duty or training, the reality set in and he remembered where he was and was intensely grateful for it. The blizzard outside had stopped, and as he rubbed the thick clump of sleep from his eye, he was granted an impressive view of the canyon and lake below. As Sarafan reports had stated, the fortress of Janos Audron had been carved directly out of the cliff face of a mountain overlooking the frozen lake below.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone brightly, it's rays however didn't reach into the retreat's main chamber. The arched roof above the balcony prevented it. Probably why Janos chose to live here.

Remembering where he was exactly and what he was doing here, he rose from his sleeping place, the chair in front of the fire and he turned to survey the chamber, which was empty. Both the ancient vampire and Sally has disappeared. A loud growling in his stomach caught his attention and he remembered he hadn't eaten for days. One event after another had distracted him from it. Regaining his sense completely, his stretched out to exercise his muscle and removed his armour, piece by piece, placing down it in a relatively tidy pile on the floor next to the smouldering fire place, a gently trail of smoke still rising from the ashes. Rising, Ewoden noticed the clothes placed upon the glass table, lightly laid in a pile on the edge of the table. They were very much like those Janos wore, with trailing over the shoulders, delicately embroidered with gold and silver thread. Not even the richest noble in Willendorf wore clothes like these. Obviously either Janos or Sally wanted him to wear it, not wanting to disappoint either on he slipped his shabby pants and shirt off and quickly slipped into it.

He looked won at himself, deciding to reverse judgement as he wasn't exactly sure this was intended for humans to wear, indicated by the two holes in the back for wings. He tried to locate a reflective surface to see how he looked in it, finding none, he settled on the glass table and his distorted reflection in it's surface.

There was a loud thump from behind him as a dark figure gild effortlessly on a pair of majestic black wings over the edge of the balcony and landed only a few feet away from him. Again the former Sarafan was captivated by the impressive stature and overpowering presence of Janos Audron.

"Good morning young human." He said as he straightened himself up, his wings folding behind his back. "Your fellow student is already waiting downstairs, but before we join her…" His face suddenly acquired a very serious look. "I must speak with you." Ewoden could hear him saying, but still couldn't muster the nerve to actually engage in conversation with the very creature he had been taught to hate by the Sarafan order. It wasn't the hatred that stayed his tongue, he had cleared himself of that long ago, but still it felt strange and awkward. "I should have every reason to hate you." Janos continued. "A short ways toward the village, the Sarafan stake their kills in a hideous forest of rotting corpses." Ewoden felt a pit forming in his stomach. Although he had never had a hand in constructing such testaments the warrior priests were so proud of, he had most certainly contributed to the countless bodies placed upon the stakes. "Unlike Vorador however I do not let hate rule my judgement." He smiled a strangely reassuring smile, putting the human at ease. "I harbour no ill will toward humans, and not toward you if it puts you agitated mind at rest."

"Why?" Ewoden asked, almost in an early morning daze. "After all you say, how could you not."

"Very good question." Janos laughed, folding his arms. "Vorador himself doesn't know the answer. But it's like I said, I do not let hate rule me. The Sarafan, and their founders Moebius and Mortanious have made that mistake." Ewoden blinked.

"Moebius, what did he do to you?" Janos suddenly looked very solemn.

"What didn't they do? Yet I suppose from their point of view we had it coming really, I suppose none of the guardians actually had a choice when they came of age, inheriting the responsibilities. Although we did tell them, we told them that their humans selves simply couldn't…" He suddenly remembered exactly what he was doing, pausing in mid breath. "Yes…but that is irrelevant." Ewoden could see plainly that he had let his tongue slip on a subject he would rather not discus. "Come, we should join your fellow student to begin your studies."

"Just what do these, _studies_, involve? Vorador failed to tell me, although I realize now I was slightly overcome to ask."

"History and Science young human." Janos replied sharply, moving over to the bookcases near the fire place and searching through the titles, holding one finger out in front of himself as he briefly scanned for the book he was looking for. "Although a history and science not of your race, but mine." He pulled out a large book and threw it open, the pages falling either side. He paused to study the former Sarafan's confused face before showing him the books. Drawn upon it's pages seemed to be architects blue prints, but of machines rather than buildings. Lines, circles and other shapes drawn on the paper looked more like a confused mess to him, although the human suspected the ancient vampire saw some sense in it all. Again there were similar rune like alphabet shapes written in note form here and there.

Time became meaningless once again as Ewoden settled into this somewhat new and different lifestyle. Over the passing months, he explored much of the retreat, discovered a labyrinth of towers inside the very mountain. Structures no human hand created. He was always however, denied access to a chamber that diverted off from Janos' main living area. The stone door remained sealed completely. Lessions in the history of Janos people' the winged race Ewoden so admired, always took place at night and rather unorthodoxly outside in the cold air, on a small platform at the top of the mountain where they could see the Pillars of Nosgoth in the far distance. Either Janos preferred being outside or there was some relevance to his lessons, although both Ewoden and Sally failed to see what it was. Here they learn of the circle, the elements each Guardian who served a pillar was bound to, the heritage that passed when one guardian died and most importantly, how balance between each of them were held together by the central Balance pillar.

The former Sarafan had never experienced the privilege of scholarship before. That was a rich nobles entitlement, hardly something a slave was expected to receive, but as time past it felt less and less odd and the lesions less and less difficult and mind boggling, although it became obvious that Sally was far better that this than he was. She enjoyed rubbing that in his face executively, seemingly happy that he couldn't get mad at her now matter how much she tried. Within half a year, summer rolling around, both of them had managed to learn the language of the ancients and were now able to read the books Janos had in his chamber.

Throughout it all however, Ewoden did not neglect his physical training as he finalled managed to persuade Janos to teach him the basics some of the more advanced forms of combat described in the many books.

Two summers came and went by the time Janos moved them on to the study of the various devices and technology hidden away in the depths of the sanctuary. Although a lot of the work involved studying a lot of ancient diagrams, when winter rolled around again when they were just about able to understand what those diagrams said.

Janos seemed, almost patriotic in behaviour toward their studies. He was almost desperate to pass on the knowledge, like he was afraid that if he didn't it would cease to exist.

"Exactly how many years have we been here?" Sally asked, floating overhead one day near the beginning of Fall, a bored expression on her face, her arms behind her head, her hair falling down toward his face Ewoden himself was sitting on the edge of the Aerie, lying down looking up toward her gently floating around. Janos had left to visit Vorador at his mansion for a while and probably wouldn't be back until well past nightfall, leaving the two of them alone for a good long while. Ewoden suspected this had given Sally ideas. The sun had disappeared behind a large mountain as it began to sink in sunset, allowing Sally the darkness needed to venture out into the fresh air. Both of them were dressed the robes Janos had given them and by now they were used to the freedom of movement they provided. Ewoden noticed now that although these robes were identical, it flattered Sally's figure more, almost as if their designer had had that in mind.

"I don't know." He confessed. "I stopped counting after the third summer." Sally flipped over and looked down at him with a playful look on her face.

"That means you don't even know how old you are." Ewoden shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't know the date of my birth before I came here, I've never had idea what my age is exactly." Sally floated down closer, only a few inches away from him now.

"If I were to hazard a guess." She said. "I'd say you're twenty five." The human yawned loudly, having just woken up. Being around beings with such nocturnal habits as the others had given him similar traits.

"And just how are you?" He asked with a smile. Sally looked away innocently.

"Oh, I was only one hundred and fourteen when I came here." Ewoden chuckled at the joke.

"You don't look a day over fifty." She smiled as well, descended a lightly pecked him on the cheek. Without warning there was a suddenly battle cry down from the canyon below, followed by a very familiar bellowing war horn. Ewoden knew that that horn, he had blown it himself once. They both stared down toward the mountain path that lead south and upon it, on the banks of the small lake were a large group of Sarafan Warriors, brandishing banners with their symbol upon them. For a moment, Ewoden was reminded of what it had been like to be one of them. Yet with the knowledge he now had, he knew that the cause these men were so fanatical about was little less more than a tangle of lies. Over their shoulders they carried the reeking bodies of their latest kills, which one by one they began staking out on the lake's banks, adding to the already enormous forest of dead bodies surrounding the body of water. Some vampires were still alive and their dying screams resonated throughout the mountains as the Sarafan forced them onto the stakes laughing all the time and sneering in contempt. This happened regularly now. Every so often, large numbers of Sarafan would come, set up these grotesque warnings, shout more insulting curses up toward the sanctuary and then go.

"Their visits are becoming more regular now." Ewoden stated. The female vampire nodded.

"And the number of kills they pitch up has increased to." She hesitated, lowering her eyebrows. "How many have they killed in cold blood now?" Ewoden closed his eyes and remembered the faces of the vampire he had slain. It was nothing in comparison to the numbers other Sarafan knights managed to claim, but it was enough to stain his conscience. As if reading his thoughts, Sally laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

The Sarafan began chanting once they'd finished, Odviously they not realized that their cries did not reach the Aeire platform this high up and sounded like muffled screamed from there. After several minutes of this, they disappeared down the winding path back towards the town.

"A wonderful sight for Janos to return home to." Ewoden snarled, turning his back on it.

* * *


	10. Chapters end

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I do not own Lok

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"I'm afraid I must advise against this course of action." Janos began, although already certain there was little use in saying so. Ewoden was already halfway through putting his old Sarafan armour on, little was going to stop him now. Luckily for the human, his size had not increased that much and it still managed to fit. Already the night had set in, althoguh the moon light was finding it hard to peirce the snow storm. "If you are found out…"

"I'm aware of the consequences, I was a Sarafan once, I know what they do to deserters." Ewoden replied with the most determined voice he could manage, yet his hands were still shaking as he placed his helm upon his head.

"This is insane." Sally said quite sharply, slapping his hand away from the final pieces of his armour. "You're going to get yourself killed."

Ewoden looked back at her through the visor in his helmet. His green eyes still visible from behind the steal mask.

"I'm not going to stay in Ushtenheim for long." He told her. "Only for half an hour at maximum, after that, whether I have the information I'm after or not I'll leave as quickly as I can." Janos said there for a moment or two as he finished piecing together his armour. While it was true Sarafan activity had been increasing to suspicious levels, he could see that Ewoden had another reason for going, one just as strong as the official. The former Sarafan had been cut off from human society for the best part of five years and Janos couldn't really blame him for being curious as to what changes had occurred during that time. The scenario would certainly drive even Janos to irritation.

"Very well Ewoden." He said in final agreement and Sally looked up, her eyes wide in protest before Janos raised a claw. "But it would be best if you travel west and then approach the town from the large stone arch in the canyons. The direct path from here to the town is patrolled regular by Sarafan and I wager it is probably more productive to avoid them." Ewoden nodded in agreement.

"Yes, as you say." He said, sliding his axe into the leather harness around his back. Sally gave him a pleading look. She had seen Sarafan impale traitors and deserters on pikes as well as their vampire prey. She didn't want him to end up the same way.

"I'm coming with you." She said suddenly and Janos quickly butted in.

"No, Ewoden is human and can walk amongst them without harassment. You are a vampire, they will kill you on sight." He looked her directly in the eye. "You will take Ewoden down to the stone arch and wait there for him. If you are happened upon by a patrol, return to me at once." Sally tried to argue, but when the father of the present vampire race gave you an order, you obeyed it without question. She shut her mouth and nodded "Now go, and may you return with the utmost speed." He added as they approached the edge of the balcony overlooking the canyon. Sally was sure to give him a very disapproving look as she look over of his waist and began floating upward.

"I still say this is insane." She whispered to him as they began their decent through the blinding snowstorm toward the ground below.

"To be perfectly honest." Ewoden replied, his voice muffled by his helm and the howling lashes of the blizzard. "So do I."

* * *

Janos watched them go with a deepening sense of dread growing in him. Perhaps he was watching them go to their doom, perhaps he would find their bodies stuck on pikes tomorrow morning down on the lake shores. He walked over to the fire place and stood with his arms behind his back. Faith sustained him throughout the centuries, it would have to do so for the next few hours. yet somehow he knew that was the last time he would see either of them.

Without warning the doors at the other end of the chamber creaked open and the familiar soft padding of soft steps resonated throughout the chamber as the doors closed shut again. Someone had entered the room, however Janos stood with his back to whoever was there. There was more metallic clank from boots, so whoever it was, it was not a Sarafan warrior and so he did not need to be on the alert, not that any Sarafan could reach the aerie. A timid, yet strong voice spoke up, filled with curiosity and a sort of frenzied excitement.

"Janos…Audron?" It asked as the ancient vampire sighed, turning toward the speaker. A strange, blue skinned creature like himself with yellow glowing eyes and a very skeletal like appearance.

"It is heartening…" He began with a content smile. "After all these years, to hear my name spoken without contempt."

* * *

Ushtenheim was nearly completely blanketed in snow by the time the former Sarafan reached the large portcullis that marked the towns southern entrance. The banners of the order fluttering from the top of the small castle like construct. A Sarafan guard, with several layers of fur draped around him, stood guard on the other side, shivering every now and then to keep quiet. The long, twisting road through the mountains heading south from that gate was littered with stakes, the rotted frozen corpses of vampires hung there to mark the heightened glory of the Sarafan. The town north of the gate was a Sarafan outpost and as such, the order had a strong presence here. Nearly every shop and public house, even the Church at the centre of town had a guard on patrol in or around it.

Being amongst humans again, it was a strange and un-nerving sensation rather than the pleasant one Ewoden had been expecting. The whole, normalcy, of the town just seemed so still and complacent and the former Sarafan felt isolated even when he entered the church during a service, a large amount of people praying at the shrine, a priest nearby saying prayers. He didn't know why he couldn't see it before, but it was now plain to him as people shrank away from him, that the normal citizenary of Nosgoth, not just the vampires feared the Order.

Apart from the clanking of Sarafan steal boots through the snow, the town was deadly quiet. Everyone was inside their homes, waiting the blizzard out. The only source of light apart from the church came from the local tavern, The White outpost. Sitting at the bar, ordering a few drinks, Ewoden found that blending in with humans again after so long as not as difficult as he first imagined. In fact, most people seemed scared to talk to him while inside his Sarafan armour and he was fine with that. Listening to gossip that spread around the tavern, Ewoden managed to learn of a city was being constructed on Nosgoth's southern most coast, and that this city was to be the lands capital. It had been dubbed, Meridian.

As expected, there was a large Sarafan presence here in the town. Far many than were actually necessary for the garrison. Putting a near direct obstacle to Ewoden's plans to discover information, the Garrison was full to the top with Sarafan elite. He'd never get in un-noticed, so he had to make so with that little bits he could gather from whoever sat next to him or passed by.

Two Sarafan clad in full armour sat down next to him and ordered a large amount of Mead from the bartender, who at first seemed reluctant to serve them, but ultimately he had little option.

"You must one of the new guys that arrived a moment ago." One of them stated, turning toward Ewoden. Hesitating only brief, he coughed and quickly assumed the identity of a new Sarafan recruit. At least he knew how to act like one at least. "Cold weather isn't it, well you needn't worry, none of us will be here in this secluded town for much longer." Ewoden found that particular state rather interesting.

"Why do you say that?" The other Sarafan turned to give him a stunned stared through his visor.

"You didn't hear? The Six Inquisitors just started for Audron's stronghold, they carry the staff of lord Moebius himself." A lump formed in Ewoden's throat, he knew of the Sarafan Inquisitors. Six of the most deadly warriors in the army, Raziel his old trainer, Dumah, Ruhab, Turel, Melchiah and Zephon. But that wasn't the half of it, being a former Sarafan, Ewoden was well aware that the Staff of Moebius had the ability to immobilise vampires, leaving them completely vulnerable as long as the staff's was present.

"How exactly do they intend to penetrate Audron's stronghold? The only entrance is well over fifty feet in the air, one a vertical cliff." Ewoden said, trying to sound confident. The Sarafan guard slapped his knee, laughing out load.

"That's the Ironic thing. Not too long ago, a strong blue demon passed through here. It looked like it was on it's way to toward Audron. Lord Moebius has instructed the Six to simply follow the path the demon makes up to the monster himself." Ewoden broke out in a cold sweat, his stomach felt like a stone had just been dropped into it.

* * *

"Do you know how cold it is out here?" Sally asked, shivering as Ewoden trudged as quickly as he could through the snow towards her. Despite the fact he had been gone only of the time they had both expected. He had been in such a rush to leave the town he had forgotten all about leaving inconspicuously, but that hardly registered on his mind at the moment.

Almost instantly they were in the air, flying through the howling snowstorm back toward the Aerie. Sally kept asking what the matter was, why he was urging her to fly faster but by the time they came within sight of it, Ewoden's worst fears were realized and Sally required no explanation.

The Aerie had collapsed. The roof overhanging the balcony had caved in, blocking the and the large entrance to the ancient vampires private chambers had been completely blocked off. The large statue underneath the balcony had been damaged in whatever cataclysmic event had occurred as well, it's outstretched arms had fallen off and it's wings scared beyond all recognition. This had happened some time ago as a large degree of snow was already covering the ruins.

Almost frantically, Sally dropped Ewoden on the top of the collapsed pile and began digging at the collapsed rock, Ewoden joining her shortly. They managed to dig their way through the rubble and into the retreat itself, but even here things were hardly better. Parts of the roof inside the roof had collapsed as well and the placed was a mess, with all the book cases and furniture smashed. Flying on the glass table near the burnt out first place, his form highlighted by the shafts of light coming in through the hole they'd just dug was Janos Audron. He was lying lifelessly on the table, his wings and limbs spread out side, his head tilted to the side, wide golden eyes staring in space lifelessly. The most painful sight of all was the large wound in his chest, the blood from which staining his clothes. Ribs cracked wide open, his organs in full display for all to see. There was however one organ missing from between his yellow putrid lungs. There was a universal moment that would remain in Ewoden's mind forever when he realized the full extent of the Sarafan Inquisitors cruelty. They had torn out his heart.

Sally collapsed to her knees, tears already running down her face. Within moments she was wailing at the top of her voice like a child discovering a dead parent, the similar scenario all too adept. The axe Ewoden had gripped in his right hand fell from him and clattered on the floor. Was this what the Sarafan were about? Really? They hadn't just defeated Janos, they'd mutilated him. In the heat of the moment, Ewoden felt disgraced to be human.

"Be strong my child." Said a soft voice and out of the shadows, a tall figure with green skin and large bat like ears stepped. Vorador had the most melancholy look on his face Ewoden had ever seen, yet in his eyes there began to burn a maddening rage. "You have my word, both of you do, that this if the final sacrilege the Sarafan have performed against our race." There was a glint of metal and Vorador produced a large two handed claymore blade with serrated edges. "It ends now."

"And what do you going to do?" Ewoden asked, not able to meet the ancient vampires gaze. "Attack the Orders, they will simply retaliate."

"I know that very well." Vorador replied, looking down at the lifeless body of his sire, the faint illusion of tears beginning to form at the edge of his eyes. "Which is why I shall take my retribution on the sponsors of their crusade. The circle itself."


End file.
